


Rites of Passage

by ClosetFanGirl5



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-04-18 12:39:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4706363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClosetFanGirl5/pseuds/ClosetFanGirl5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU/AH "He who fights with monsters should be careful lest he thereby become a monster. And if thou gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will also gaze into thee." - Friedrich Nietzsche. A psychological exploration of a woman scorned. DARK. Delena (with minor Stelena). Strong M for later chapters: violence/abuse/sexuality and language throughout.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is my first attempt at fanfic. I welcome any and all constructive criticism, tips, ideas, etc (I mean it – rip it to shreds if you have to!). I know where I want this story to go, I'm just not entirely sure yet how it's going to get there. Thanks in advance to anyone who takes the time to read this and, again, any feedback would be very much appreciated as it can only help me improve. 
> 
> When this story starts Elena is 17, Stefan 18 and Damon is 22.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own the Vampire Diaries. 
> 
>  
> 
> *** WARNING!!! This story will contain graphic violence/abuse, sexuality and my own personal brand of sailor-mouth-itis. This story will get dark. VERY DARK. You have been warned. ***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is my first attempt at fanfic. I welcome any and all constructive criticism, tips, ideas, etc (I mean it – rip it to shreds if you have to!). I know where I want this story to go, I'm just not entirely sure yet how it's going to get there. Thanks in advance to anyone who takes the time to read this and, again, any feedback would be very much appreciated as it can only help me improve. 
> 
> When this story starts Elena is 17, Stefan 18 and Damon is 22.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own the Vampire Diaries. 
> 
>  
> 
> *** WARNING!!! This story will contain graphic violence/abuse, sexuality and my own personal brand of sailor-mouth-itis. This story will get dark. VERY DARK. You have been warned. ***

**CHAPTER 1**

 

My name is Elena Gilbert and what follows is an honest account of the events that shaped me into who I am today. It's a story about loss and struggle; about falling in love, falling from grace, overcoming adversity, growing, learning and being human. It is sometimes empowering but also ugly and, at times, embarrassing and I wouldn't change anything about it. Why? Because this story is mine.

 

I was 17 when I met Stefan Salvatore. I bumped into him, quite literally, as we both wandered, with our eyes down, preoccupied with the titles in our hands, through Powell's Books 'Red Room' (Mysticism, Metaphysics and the Occult) in Portland, Oregon. As my books went crashing to the floor, I was scrambling to pick them up as I noticed the stranger in front of me retrieve LeVey's famous work and stare at it with wide eyes. As he handed it back to me I saw a small, mischievous smirk spread across his handsome face. It was adorable and I immediately liked him, before he had even said a word.

 

“The Satanic Bible? Really? You don't seem like the type,” he remarked as he made a show of eyeing me from head to toe.

“Yeah,” I blushed, “It's not really what everyone thinks.” I glanced at the title in his hands, something on Kabbalah, and shifted through my pile.

“Really?” He asked. “Candles, pentagrams, devil-worshipping goth kids?”

“No, no, not really,” I laughed. “I mean, yeah. There are rituals in here and, sure, there are plenty of misguided goth kids who probably take this stuff a little too literally, but I'm mainly interested in the philosophy. It's, like, 'Do what thou wilt', you know? Like, finding a higher power within yourself instead of blindly following some invisible curmudgeon with a bad temper and a revenge complex.” I paused before adding, “Who holds grudges.”

 

I was cracking myself up until I raised my gaze and met the surprised stare of my mysterious stranger. Blushing again ( _What the hell is up with you today, Gilbert? Get a friggin grip_ , I thought), I nervously tucked a strand of my long brown hair behind my ear. “Here,” I handed him one of the books from the pile in my arms. It was 'The Golden Dawn'. “Get this one. When you're finished with your Kabbalah, read it. Trust me.”

“But, don't you-”

“No, I already have a copy at home. I was getting this for a friend of mine who's really into all the magic stuff, but I should just lend her my copy. You saved me some money,” I said, giggling, as I smiled shyly.

“Thanks,” he replied, hesitantly. Then, cocking his head slightly to the side and quirking an eyebrow, almost like he was trying to figure me out, he extended his hand. “I'm Stefan.”

“Elena,” I responded, taking his hand in mine and giving it a gentle shake.

 

Handshakes have always felt impossibly awkward to me. I think too much about the mechanics. _Be firm, but don't squeeze to_ _o_ _hard, don't be too passive, don't hold on for too long, are my hands sweaty_? Those are all common thoughts that fly fleetingly through my mind when confronted with the dreaded shaking of fingered appendages. When our eyes met, though, all thoughts of handshake etiquette flew out the window. I had recognized from the first moment that, of course, Stefan was a good looking guy. With his slim, but obviously muscled physique, his perfectly quaffed, light brown hair, chiseled features adorned with smooth, pale white skin and piercing green eyes, he looked like a cross between Ryan Gosling and Joaquin Phoenix. _Not bad at all_.

 

What really got me, though, was what I _saw_ in those green eyes. The second they met my brown ones, I was flooded with the pain, the loss, the regret, self-loathing and unequivocal, deep-seated loneliness that was harbored there. This guy, who seemed so genuinely friendly and warm, was clearly damaged beyond belief and it floored me. For a moment I got lost in those eyes, trying to imagine what kind of fucked up things this poor guy had been through. The bright fluorescents, the polished concrete floors, the shelves upon shelves of the book store faded away as I immersed myself in possible scenarios. I suddenly noticed that I was both staring, mouth agape like an idiot, and breaking all my handshaking rules. Palm sweaty, wrist limp, and still hadn't let go.

 

“Um,” I stuttered as I quickly wrenched my hand from his, like my life depended on it. “I- It's nice to- um- meet you.”

Internally face-palming at my own asinine behavior, I turned to leave before I made a bigger fool of myself. I made it all of three steps before I felt Stefan's fingers wrap around my wrist.

“Wait,” he said, softly and quickly. _Shit,_ I winced as I turned around slowly to face him.

“What's wrong?” He asked with genuine concern as he saw the anguish on my face.

“Nothing,” I lied. “I'm just late for something.”

“Oh. Well, I was gonna ask you if you maybe wanted to join me for, like, coffee or something... It's just that... Well, I dunno.” He fidgeted with the corner of a book cover, looking more than a little nervous. _At least I'm not the only one being weird_.

“You just seem kinda cool and I thought... But if you're late for something... Nevermind. Sorry.”

 _Well, isn't this perfectly awkward,_ I thought. _Wait, he thinks I'm cool?_

“No, it's just... Yeah.” Stefan nodded slowly, looking deflated. This couldn't possibly be going any worse. He was just turning to leave when I rushed out, “I'm just supposed to meet a friend.” _What a crock of shit, you coward._ My flight instinct was screaming at me to run away but I couldn't deny that I was intrigued by this guy. I knew that I certainly did need to escape this situation before I further humiliated myself, because my wits were clearly not about me. However, would I regret it later if I walked away, never to see him again? Probably. _OK, plan B._

 

Gathering my resolve and trying to keep my voice from quavering, I slipped back into my confident facade, squaring my shoulders and said, “Give me your phone.”

He looked back at me with wide eyes, like he was too shocked to argue, and slowly reached into his pocket and handed the device to me. I took it with steady hands (that took a lot of concentration) and quickly programmed my number in.

“There. You have my number. Text me some time and maybe we can revisit that coffee idea.”

A small, shy smile on Stefan's lips quickly morphed into a gigantic, beaming grin.

 

We said our polite goodbyes and, after paying for my books (and silently thanking the gods that he continued to shop- how weird would that have been?) I hustled out onto Burnside and turned up 10th towards the MAX. Walking down the street, I was lost in thought and enjoying the crisp air, rife with the decaying smell of autumn, when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I quickly retrieved it and unlocked the screen to see a new text. Reading it, an enormous grin spread across my cheeks and I almost walked straight into a mailbox. Laughing at myself, I read the message again.

 

“ **Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law. Love is the law, love under will.” Thanks for being the cutest and most interesting person I've met in ages. When are you free for coffee?**

**-Stefan**

 

* * *

 

“Whaddya mean you haven't texted him back yet?!” Caroline all but screeched at me, after I finished recounting my 'meet-cute', as she called it, with Stefan.

“Jesus. Care. I'm one foot away. Inside voice. Please.”

 

I loved Caroline, I really did. But the words 'moderate' and 'filter' just didn't factor into her vocabulary. The blond terror, as I affectionately referred to her, was definitely someone you wanted on your side. She was drop-dead gorgeous, with her wavy blond hair, perfect skin and sky blue eyes, and perfectly versed in the fine arts of seduction and distraction, which made her the ideal wing-woman for all manner of teenaged covert-ops. Always up-to-date with the latest fashion and gossip, her talents were truly indispensable when trying to survive the tumultuous shit storm that was the American High School experience. Along with our friend Bonnie, we had been inseparable since kindergarten and, even though I didn't go to school with them anymore, we were still basically attached at the hip.

 

“Well, I'm just sayin'...” she narrowed her eyes. “Why _haven't_ you? You meet some totally gorgeous guy that seems to be into _you_ , despite... all this...” she ran a hand up and down in front of me.

“Gee, thanks, Care-”

“And you haven't pounced on that? What are you waiting for? Do I need to do it for you?”

“NO!” Bonnie and I both exclaimed in unison. “Elena, do you want to meet him for coffee?”

 

Ah, Bonnie. Thank god for Bonnie, always the voice of reason. Dark skin, black hair, high cheekbones, her hazel eyes open and inquisitive, she was a beautiful picture of virtue and honesty. Sure, her metered judgment could be a little annoying at times, but she really was the glue that held the three of us together. She reigned me (capricious, manic, wayward Elena) in and got me to focus on what was important. She held on to flighty, fanciful, exuberant Caroline's kite strings, keeping her in the present as much as possible, and she took a spot in the middle; our own personal Jesus. Or Thoth. Or Buddha. Together, the three of us were truly a force to be reckoned with.

 

“I mean... Yeah, I do. I'm just nervous, I guess. I know, I know. I'm nervous. Weird. But, it's just... like Caroline said, there's all _this_ to deal with,” I said, gesturing to myself and hanging my head. Sexy and/or physically appealing was not a typical descriptor used for little old me. I was a jeans, t-shirt and converse kind of girl, who never wore makeup and rarely attracted male attention of any sort.

“Please. Easy fix,” Caroline announced.

“Maybe it shouldn't _be_ fixed. Maybe it's not broken, Care,” came Bonnie's stern reply.

“ _IT_ is sitting right here,” I shouted, moving my straight chestnut hair to completely cover my face like Cousin It from the Adam's Family.

“Elena, I just think the best thing to do, if you're actually into this guy, is to be yourself,” Bonnie advised, after our giggles dissipated. She added, “As _obviously_ strange as you are, I mean... You don't want to build something on a framework of lies.”

“You don't want to build it on a framework of _flies_ either. So text him back, tell him you're free tonight, and good grief! Take a friggin' _shower_ , woman!” Caroline teased.

Rolling my eyes, I picked up my phone, “OK. Here goes...”

 

* * *

 

I was surprised to find that conversation with Stefan flowed quite easily and the nerves that had built up in the minutes before meeting him had dissolved almost immediately. He was warm and accepting of my odd behavior and eccentricities.

“So you just punched him in the face? Just like that?” He was asking through riotous laughter, wiping a tear from his eye.

“Fuck yeah!” I exclaimed. “What kind of person asks a girl which one of her boyfriends taught her that? After she has the 'balls'” using finger quotes, I rolled my eyes emphatically, “to make a compelling argument!?” After a brief pause to collect my thoughts I added, with faux sincerity, “And why the fuck do people assume having balls makes you tough, anyway? I mean, fuckin' hell. Balls, nards, gonads, cojones, they're so friggin' sensitive! And you guys hang them on the outside, like idiots. Now, vaginas, they can take a pounding.”

For a second I thought Stefan was about to have a stroke, he was laughing so hard. “Betty White, right?” He asked, wiping a tear from his eye.

“Yeah, but she just stole my idea and made it famous,” I smirked and winked at him.

“Well, you've got fire. I'll give you that. But didn't you ever hear of fighting words with words?” Stefan asked, still trying to regain his composure.

“Of course. But clearly my words weren't getting through to him. He was either too preoccupied with staring at my tits or perturbed by the fact that he was being outsmarted by someone who didn't have a penis! I figured my best bet to get through to him was to speak his own language. Caveman.”

Shaking his head, Stefan muttered, “Elena Gilbert... Where the hell did you come from?”

“A web of lies, mistrust and ignorance. What you _should_ be asking me is how I'm sitting here in front of you with a smile on my face.” _Shit. I did it again._ _TMI._ _Think before you speak, Gilbert!_

“Uh... -”

“Shit. Stefan, I'm sorry. That's neither here nor there. What about you? I feel like I've been monopolizing this conversation.” _Give me a pile of sand and I will dig a head-sized hole._

“Well, since I can see you want to change the subject, and for that reason _only,_ becauseI wanna get into _all that_ more later, if you'll let me, what do you wanna know about me?”

“How 'bout we start off with the basics?” I asserted with a nod of my head. “What does the mysterious and broody 18 year old have to say about his parents?”

 

Stefan's whole body stiffened and his eyes went cold. _Obviously hit a nerve, there. For fuck's sake, people should come with_ _an_ _instructional manual._ I had thought it was a pretty benign question; barely more than small talk. Clearly, though, it was not. I wondered if he had family drama like mine and, also, if it had anything to do with the deep seated pain I saw in his eyes when we first met.Inquisitive, by nature, I wanted all the answers and I kinda wanted them now. But I knew I couldn't push him to talk about a sore subject so I would have to let it go, for now. _Change the subject, Gilbert!_

 

“Um, actually, why don't you tell me abou-”

“It's ok, Elena. I'm sorry. It's just hard for me to talk about, but I'd like you to know. My mother died when I was 4. Cancer. I don't really remember her. My father changed after she passed. He turned cold. Hard. Heartless. But he was worse on my brother than he was on me. Incidentally, I also don't remember my father being anything but cold and heartless. Damon always told me he used to be fun though. That's the Cliff's Notes version, anyway.”

“You have a brother?”

Stefan let out a huge sigh and rolled his shoulders in a way that, on anyone else, might've looked like someone being relieved of stress. In Stefan's case, however, the way he slumped looked like Atlas had just decided to go on his lunch break and the weight of the world was transferred to Stefan's shoulders.

 

“Well, he's not one to brag,” came a velvety voice from beside me. “ _Hello_ brother.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

 

“ _Damon_ ,” was all Stefan said and his eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, as if he didn't want me to notice how _not ok_ he was with his brother's presence.

 

I glanced to my right at the man now hovering next to our table and promptly stopped breathing. If I was impressed by Stefan's good looks, I was well and truly _blown away_ by Damon's. He was wearing a pair of those 'strategically distressed' jeans that I always made fun of (because who would pay $100 for ripped jeans) and I'd never seen overpriced jeans look sexier. His solid torso was wrapped in a tight black t-shirt and framed by an admittedly bad-ass leather jacket and black biker boots rounded out the whole 'social miscreant' ensemble. _Damn._ My gaze drifted further north to take in his face. High cheekbones, strong jaw, full pink lips that looked way too soft for their own good, jet black hair that contrasted his ivory skin impeccably, long dark eyelashes and a manly dusting of stubble that Stefan lacked. He looked like he just got out of bed after having sex for hours and didn't give two shits. It was hot as hell.

 

_Oh, for fucks sake, I'm ogling again, aren't I? What is with me today? Totally lost my cool over BOTH of these Salvatore boys in just one day? I'm fucked. Aaaaand, yep. He caught me._ Damon's lips had turned up in a self-satisfied, sideways smirk as his eyes moved to mine. _Jesus, tap dancing Christ, who in the ever-loving FUCK has eyes like that?_ They were the most breathtakingly beautiful shade of...- _Aqua? Cerulean? What the hell would you call that color? Gorgeous.-_ that I had ever seen. Chrystal blue, with a fierceness that could pierce the strongest armor, dark-rimmed and captivating, varied hues dancing with a glint that was surely caused by amusement at my stupefaction.

 

“And who might you be, gorgeous?” Damon asked as he captured my hand and brought it to his lips. I tried my best to ignore the spark I felt at his touch and the tingles that subsequently erupted through my whole body.

“About to be your worst nightmare, if you don't stop with the whole chivalrous act,” I retorted after instantly regaining my composure and removing my hand from his. “It doesn't come across the way you probably hope it does when you've got that cocky smirk plastered all over your face.” _Who the hell does this guy think he is, anyway?_ I instantly hated him, I realized, despite the outrageous sex appeal.

“Ooooh, feisty,” Damon replied, briefly widening his eyes and twitching his eyebrows.

“And I suppose you assume that little eye thing you just did will reduce me to putty in your hands? Think again, Lancelot, and resume your quest. I am not your maiden fair. And my name is Elena, not gorgeous.”

 

Stefan, who had been watching our exchange with unguarded curiosity, snorted loudly and chuckled. Damon had the good sense to look mildly perturbed, if only for a moment, before the bravado returned full-force.

“Hmm, we'll see.” He shot me a half smile and a wink, and a sideways glance at Stefan that was returned with unbridled vehemence. “Ladies, I bid thee adieu,” he nodded at us both curtly before wandering away.

 

“OK. What the FUCK was all that about?” I asked, once I was sure Damon was gone.

“What? You mean you weren't impressed by the god's-gift-to-women that is my big bro? What was it that threw you? The overly-aggressive charm or the misogyny?” Stefan asked through a rumbling chuckle.

“No, _that_ is something that we are going to further address later. What I _meant,_ and what I want to know _now_ , is what the hell was going on between the two of _you_?”

Stefan let out a long, pained sigh. “My brother and I don't get along.”

“You FUCKING THINK?” _Obviously_.

“No, I mean we _really_ don't get along. He pretty much hates me.”

“Not to be nosy but... Elaborate, please.”

“What can I say? The guy's a dick.” At my pointed stare, he went on, sighing, “He just really likes to prove that he's better than me at everything. It gets really annoying. He thinks he's a rock star because he's in a band and all the ladies love him. I mean, it's ridiculous. He plays these tiny venues but still, everywhere he goes, he gets panties thrown at him. Literally. I think it's all gone to his head.”

“Was that whole act meant to make me uncomfortable? Or you?” I asked, hesitantly.

Stefan let out a labored sigh, rolling his eyes and rubbing a hand over his face and then through his hair.

“I have no idea. I never do, with him,” Stefan replied. Somehow, I was less than convinced that that was a completely honest answer but I dropped the subject anyway.

 

* * *

 

The next morning I was sitting in my living room with my two best friends trying desperately to avoid the topic of my 'date' the previous evening. I really just didn't understand the insatiable teenaged need to gossip and giggle about boys and dating. It was all such a charade, so juvenile. Caroline loved to plot, manipulate and scheme. Bonnie loved to analyze, compare and judge. It was all a game to them. A game I didn't want to play. Unfortunately, it seemed the requisite time to make small talk before delving into the obligatory post-date debriefing had passed.

 

“Sooooo?” Caroline was sitting cross-legged on the couch next to me, elbows on knees, chin on fists, staring at me with those enormous bright blue eyes, awaiting an answer. I looked to Bonnie for help but was met with her typically cool demeanor and one quirked eyebrow as she lounged, sprawled across the love seat. An eyebrow quirk from Bonnie was as expressive as a bounce-and-shriek from Caroline. Obviously I wasn't getting out of this. _Is this really just a teenager thing, or are my friends always gonna be like this?_

 

“Ugh. Fine,” I conceded. “Whaddya wanna know?”

“Everything,” my not-annoying-at-all-nope-not-in-the-slightest friends replied in unison. Sighing, I reluctantly recounted the events of the previous night- at times, being under duress, in _elaborate_ detail.

“Oh. My. God. Can I be your maid of honor?”

“Caroline!” Bonnie and I shouted.

“What? C'mon, 'Len, you totally just met _the one_ , let me live a little.”

 

_Live a little_. Yeah, that's what this was to Caroline. This was the epitome of a fulfilled existence to her. It sometimes worried me how shallow and... pedestrian her goals were. Any reasonably interesting life experience she had that was beyond the realm of parties and boys and planning her (or my) future wedding, she came about vicariously. It constantly both perturbed and impressed her that I flew by the seat of my pants. If something felt good I did it. I paid little heed to such benign concepts as convention and responsibility. I had dropped out of school the year before, left home and taken every penny I had and embarked on a three month greyhound trip all across the country. I was currently living in my own hole-in-the-wall apartment and working as a bartender in a dingy dive bar near Chinatown, where I had easily convinced the owner that I was 21. He didn't even bother checking, as most of his employees were illegal anyway. I didn't much feel cut out to be a teenager, so I kinda skipped it. I was often mistaken for older.

 

“First of all, I just met him. It's a little soon to start calling him 'the one'. Yeah, sure, we get along and yeah, sure, he managed to make _me_ a little nervous, which is saying something but, really Care. Let's try tapping the breaks and steering into the slide, ok babe?”

Caroline huffed and rolled her eyes, I smirked and Bonnie snorted.

“So what's with the brother?” Bonnie asked, intuitively getting right to the heart of my own thoughts, as usual.

“Yeah,” Caroline exclaimed. “Is he hot and, if so, can I get dibs?”

“Don't even go there, Care. The guy is a total ass. I'm talking pompous prick of epic fucking proportions,” I warned.

“So he's hot then,” Bonnie deduced with a knowing smirk.

“Ridiculously,” I dead-panned. Bonnie and Caroline erupted into giggles and I couldn't help but join in.

 

* * *

 

The next few months were a whirlwind and passed in a blur, so caught up was I in the excitement of a budding relationship. Stefan and I continued to go on 'dates' (gods, I really hated that word) and get to know each other. I learned that he was taking a year off before going to study law at West Chester. I even introduced him to my girls and he quickly found a home inside our little group. Caroline, of course, absolutely loved him immediately. Bonnie was a little more hesitant but seemed to accept him. I would frequently catch her watching him like she was waiting for him to reveal his big, dark, evil secret and, quite frankly, I couldn't blame her. I just knew there was something hidden beneath the surface of that kind smile but it still remained a mystery. I hadn't asked him again about his family drama, choosing instead to wait until he was ready to divulge more. Which he apparently wasn't. Not yet, anyway. And that was ok with me. After all, I hadn't exactly opened up the floodgates yet either, with respect to my own past.

 

The first time Stefan and I kissed, Caroline almost threw a party. The first time we had sex she was mentally designing wedding invitations. When he told me he loved me and I said it back without hesitation, even I was getting a little giddy. Sure, there were still things left to learn about each other but I had never felt so comfortable with anyone before. It was nice to have someone there for me when I needed them. To hold me when I had a bad day or celebrate with me when something great happened. I was starting to realize that this whole relationship thing might have its merits, after all.

 

On a rainy Monday in January I was just starting my shift at the bar (“Jo's”. I know, creative, right?). I had finished wiping down the counters and was restocking the top shelf when I heard a familiar voice from behind me at the bar.

“Double bourbon, neat.”

I spun around and met those crystalline eyes with a glare. The momentary look of genuine surprise on Damon's face almost made me falter but I held strong to my animosity.

“Middle of the day on a Monday. Aiming high, are we?” I asked with a haughty sneer.

“Well, well, well. If it isn't little Miss Elena. Are you even old enough to work here?”

I quickly glanced around me to make sure we were alone before leaning over the counter and whispering threateningly, “As far as anyone here is concerned, I'm 21. And I would like it to stay that way, got it?”

Damon put his hands up in surrender. “Ok! Jeez, no need for the hostility! I'll keep your secret.”

“Thank y-” I began before I was cut off.

“On one condition.” _Ugh. What is this guy's problem?_ He was looking at me inquisitively, head slightly tilted, like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

“What do you want, Damon?” I asked through a sigh, rolling my eyes exasperatedly.

“Do shots with me.”

“Why would I do shots with you? I don't like you.” It was the most obvious thing in the world to me and I wasn't quite sure why he wasn't getting it. My facial expression pretty much portrayed exactly that.

“Because you, my dearest Elena, need to loosen up. This is the second time I've seen you and both times you've looked like you're just waiting for an excuse to punch someone. I can only imagine that you've got a soft spot for lost puppy dogs, which would explain how St. Stefan has gotten so close without serious injury.”

 

Damon's annoyingly cocky smirk was back in full force. What bothered me more than that, though, was that I actually laughed. Stefan _was_ a little like a lost puppy sometimes. He clung to me like I was his savior in a storm. It was endearing but also a little repulsive. Regardless, I should NOT be laughing at Damon's jokes at his brother's expense.

 

“ _Maybe-_ and I dunno, I'm just throwing wild theories out there- _maybe_ I always look like I wanna punch someone every time you see me because every time you see me I'm seeing _you_ and can barely suppress the urge.” I put on a big fake smile as I delivered the barb.

Damon laughed, a deep belly laugh. It was infectious and I had to fight hard to keep my cool composure intact.

“I like you,” he said, through chuckles, his blue eyes dancing with mirth.

“Well that's unfortunate, because I hate you,” I replied, my traitorous lips threatening to curl upwards in a genuine smile as Damon's laughter got louder again.

“Look,” he said, turning serious. “I wanna do shots with you. I promise I'm not trying to pick you up. You're my brother's girl and I respect that. I just wanna see what you're like when you're not hiding behind that tough front. What would it take to get you to loosen up a bit? What's the worst that could happen, anyway?”

 

I quirked my eyebrow at that last comment. “Famous last words...” I muttered. Damon chuckled again, rolling his eyes and shrugging playfully in silent concession. Looking around the bar, I suddenly came up with the perfect way to avoid doing shots with him without backing down from his little challenge. Sitting alone at a table in the back corner was Kelly Donovan. Kelly's son Matt and I grew up together and even dated for a while in Middle School before we grew apart. Kelly was well known as the ice queen in my bar. She was more standoffish than I was, after being used and abused one too many times. She'd told me on numerous occasions, with conviction, how she had completely sworn off men. I watched with amusement most nights as men of all types stepped up to the plate only to strike out. Sometimes she turned them down outright, but she liked to toy with the good looking ones for a while before she crushed them. This was going to be perfect.

 

“Ok, Damon. Here's what we're gonna do.” His eyes looked so hopeful I almost laughed, but I would save my laughter for his inevitable failure. “See that woman over there?” He glanced in the direction I was gesturing and nodded. “I get off at seven. You obviously consider yourself quite the ladies man so, I want you to prove it. Put your money where your mouth is, so to speak. If you can get that woman's number before seven I will have shots with you.” I smiled because I knew I had him exactly where I wanted him. This was going to be so fun to watch. Damon looked like the cat that got the cream.

“Gauntlet thrown, challenge accepted, Elena,” he said with a smirk and a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Pfft, cocky much?” I asked.

“ _Very_ much,” he replied, doing that eye thing again that I wanted so badly to hate but secretly found irresistible.

“Game on then, Damon.”

“Game on, Elena.”

 

With that, he sauntered away towards Kelly's table and I went back to restocking my bar, waiting for the show to start. My plan was fool proof. Or, so I thought.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N I had a lot of trouble with this chapter. This is an important moment for the development of the story and I wanted it to be just right. I'm not really sure if I accomplished this or not, but I got sick of rewriting it.

**CHAPTER 3**

 

Damon sauntered up to me at 7 on the dot wearing a smug expression. With his index finger, he made a show of slowly pushing a napkin across the bar until it was right in front of me. He placed his elbows on the bar top and his face in his hands and, with a lazy smile, he asked me, “So? What are we drinking?”

 

I glanced down at the napkin and my jaw fell slack in disbelief. Sure enough, scrawled in her loopy handwriting and accompanied by a very cliched lipstick kiss, were the digits of the feral cougar herself. I couldn't believe it. _Nobody_ got Kelly's number. It just didn't happen. I looked over at her and saw that she was eye-fucking Damon so fiercely on her way out the door that it made me feel a little uncomfortable, like I shouldn't be witnessing the private looks she was sending his way. _Oh god, this was not supposed to happen._ I mean, I had watched their interaction with interest and I witnessed the heavy flirting, but I just assumed Kelly was toying with Damon like I had seen her do so many times before. What was it that he said to her to get her to open up? I was in mild shock. “How did you...?”

“Never mind that, Elena. I believe we had a deal?”

“But-” I couldn't believe I had misjudged the situation so catastrophically. _I should've just told him to fuck right off, instead of giving him any sort of chance. Ugh, what was I thinking?_ Never one to break my word, I knew I had to suck it up and have drinks with _him_ ; my boyfriend's ridiculously hot older brother who also happened to be the biggest asshole I had ever met. He got under my skin and I fucking hated it.

“No buts, Elena. What are we drinking? Your choice.”

 

With an irritated sigh, I grabbed a bottle of Casamigos Blanco off the top shelf (go big or go home) and nodded to Tyler, the evening bartender, who gave me an inquisitive look but then just shrugged and nodded in return. Tyler didn't give any semblance of a shit about his job, this bar, or the owner, which was sometimes convenient. I grabbed two shot glasses on my way out of the bar area and led Damon to an empty table in a deserted corner.

“Alright, fair is fair,” I said, filling our glasses. “You've got me where you want me. What's the next phase of your diabolical masterplan?” Damon laughed again and I was starting to notice that I really liked the sound.

 

“We're gonna play a little game. We get to ask each other questions, kinda like truth or dare, but it's really just truth and drinking. For each question you answer, I have to pay with a shot and vice versa. If you refuse to answer, you gotta take one in penance. Dig?”

“Yeah,” I rolled my eyes playfully. “I brought my shovel. Who goes first?”

“I'll start it off easy,” Damon said, rubbing his hands together. “What's your favorite movie?”

“Fight Club,” I answered immediately. Damon raised his eyebrows a little and took his shot. “What?” I asked. Damon just shook his head slightly as if to say 'nothing'. I let it go. “Ok, my turn. Let's see... What's your... Ideal vacation spot?”

“Eastern Europe,” came Damon's reply, without hesitation. This time it was me with raised eyebrows. _“_ What? I like the history and the old myths and legends.”

“You mean like vampires and stuff?” I asked as I paid for my question with tequila. When I didn't grimace he smiled.

“MmHmm,” He nodded. “You're no stranger to the drink, are you?”

“Congratulations,” I replied in a snarky tone. “You've discovered my deep, dark secret.”

“I doubt that very much, Elena.” He said it with such sincerity and with such intensity in his blue eyes that my mouth went dry and I couldn't come up with words. Instead, I just jutted my chin out at him to indicate that it was his turn.

 

A few more shots and some benign questions later, Damon's cocky attitude had all but disappeared and, along with it, my hostility too. We were having a genuinely good time together and I was starting to wonder why I had judged him so harshly to begin with. Then I remembered the chauvinistic asshole I met initially and so, with the help of a little liquid courage, I decided to come right out and ask him about it.

 

“Why were you such a jerk when I first met you?” I winced a little when I noticed that my speech was slightly slurred, but I refilled our glasses anyway. _Fuck it. If we're doing this, we're really gonna do this,_ I thought. Damon just shrugged nonchalantly.

“I _am_ a jerk, Elena.”

“Are you? You sure? Because it seems to me that maybe your attitude is just some sort of defense mechanism. Are you hiding behind that rough exterior because you're secretly just a big softy who's afraid of being hurt? And that only counted as one question!” I giggled and poked him playfully in the shoulder before taking my shot. Damon raised an eyebrow.

“Are _you_? Because it seems to _me_ that _someone_ has trust issues so she goes all prickly to keep people from trying to get too close.”

 

I stopped laughing and stared at him. That little comment was frighteningly close to home and I didn't like it, not one bit. But the expression he was wearing told me he didn't say it to accuse or judge me. He got it. He got me. And then I saw it. My own anguish reflected back from his eyes and that's all it took. Suddenly I didn't feel so alone. We just sat there for what felt like hours but was probably only seconds, our gazes locked, having some kind of silent conversation. It was like I was really seeing him, for the first time since we'd met, and I was letting him really see me. We understood each other. Pain, heartbreak, betrayal, we had those things in common, unless I was imagining things. Damon slowly reached his hand over the table and gave mine a gentle squeeze, not breaking eye contact, and softly whispered, “I thought so,” giving a little nod. I nodded back and sucked in a deep breath, trying to ignore the fact that my skin was on fire where he touched me. We really did get each other. I had never felt more connected to anyone in my entire life. I felt like I could trust this man to the ends of the earth; this man whom I had professed to hate no more than an hour ago. Had he known from the beginning? Is that why he wanted to hang out tonight? Had he seen what I was just now discovering? Maybe we would be friends after all. Great friends. The level of mutual understanding that just passed between us was beyond anything I had ever experienced, even with Bonnie and Caroline.

 

“I was adopted,” I blurted. “My biological father was my 'uncle' and my adoptive parents, who I now just refer to as 'the Gilberts', didn't tell me until after he died in a work accident a little over a year ago. I went my whole life thinking he was just my jerk of an uncle. I only saw him like once every two or three years. They robbed me of all that time with my real father and they didn't think it mattered. They didn't even understand why I was so upset. I haven't spoken to them since. I tried to find my real mother, but all they know about her is her first name, which isn't much to go on, and the one guy who could help me find her is conveniently dead. Awesome, right?” Damon just smiled at me. It was a sad smile, but not one of pity. It was a smile of understanding and acceptance and something else that almost looked like pride. His smile was confusing and brought me, briefly, out of my half-drunken honesty parade. “I don't know why I'm telling you this,” I mumbled, shaking my head. “I haven't even told Stefan yet. You probably don't care about any of this nonsense, anyway.”

 

“I do,” Damon said, softly. “I do care. And we're a lot more alike than you might think.”

“How so?” I asked.

“My father and brother both hate me. I know what it's like to feel betrayed by the people who are supposed to love you the most. I know how much it hurts. And, trust me, if you ever repeat this to anybody there will be serious repercussions.” I had to ignore the tingles that shot through my body at the though of what Damon's punishment for me might be. I really had to knock that off.

“Why do they hate you?” I asked, almost sheepishly. After a pause and a sigh, he answered.

“My Father hates me because I challenge him. Also, I refused to follow in his ever-so-fucking-glorious footsteps. The man is Narcissus to a T. My brother hates me because one of his girlfriends fell in love with me and he thinks it's my fault. I didn't even do anything with her. In fact, I loathed the bitch. But Stefan was convinced I was fucking her and he changed. I barely even recognize him anymore. We used to be so close but now... The way he looks at me... Shit, I don't know why I'm telling you this, either. There's just....-”

 

“Something about me that makes you feel comfortable?” I interrupted. Damon nodded mutely, his eyes wide. “Yeah, right back atcha. It's weird, I can't explain it. I thought I hated your guts but all of a sudden, after one conversation, I feel like we've known each other for years.” Our eyes met and we had another one of those moments. I felt locked in place by the intensity of his gaze and the mutual vulnerability of the moment. In short, I was completely awestruck and, by the looks of it, so was he. Before I knew what was happening we were both laughing. I had no idea who laughed first or what was even funny but we were both cracking up, on the verge of tears.

 

“What are we laughing at?” I asked, trying to catch my breath.

“Who the fuck knows?” He answered, wiping away a tear.

“You know what, Mr Salvatore?” I refilled both of our glasses. “I think we're gonna be friends after all,” I announced with a grin. Damon beamed at me and nodded once in the affirmative.

“Cheers,” he said and we downed our shots.

 

* * *

 

Three hours later and I was definitely drunk. Very drunk. We both were. Damon had put on the jukebox and we were dancing around like idiots to 'Heart Shaped Box' by Nirvana, giggling like a couple of children on a sugar rush. Tyler looked over at us and rolled his eyes. We were making quite the scene. It was a good thing the bar was so dead. I stuck my tongue out at Tyler and started belting out the second verse at the top of my lungs. Much to my surprise, Damon grabbed my hands, spun me around and pulled me close so that my back was against his chest and started doing the harmony in my ear, which caused my whole body to erupt in goosebumps. I gasped and whirled around clumsily to look at him.

“You can sing!” I yelled over the music. Damon shrugged and gave me that thigh-dampening smirk of his.

“Comes in handy when you're... SHIT!” He exclaimed.

“Woah,” I laughed. “Don't be so hard on yourself. I thought it was pretty good.”

“No, I mean, uuuuhhHH! I fucked up. I was supposed to be at band practice an hour ago.” He stared off into the distance for a few seconds, looking deep in thought, before he shrugged and laughed and, returning that beautiful gaze to me, said “Oh well. Fuck it. This is more fun anyway.”

“Yeahhh! Damn right it is, Salvatore!”

 

I stopped dancing and stumbled over to our table to refill our shot glasses when I noticed the state of the bottle. I grabbed it and made my way back over to him. “Oh my gods, Damon. Look what we did! We've almost killed this whole bottle!”

“Almost!” he yelled before snagging it and taking a swig.

“Ooooh, I like your style, Mr!” I took the bottle back and poured the last drops down my throat, reveling in the burn.

“Damn, I love a woman who knows how to drink,” he said, observing me with what looked like adoration. I laughed and shook my head. Just then, 'Crystal Ship' by The Doors came on and Damon immediately started singing along.

“Before you slip into... Unconsciousness...” He suddenly grabbed my hands and pulled me close again, our faces so close I could feel his breath. I, however, had instantly stopped breathing. Blue eyes boring into mine, he continued, “I'd... like to have another kiss...” At the last line his hooded eyes moved down to my lips and when they moved back up to meet mine I saw that they had darkened significantly. Time stood still. I forgot about everything that was happening around me. The contents of my brain in that moment consisted of only one sentence. _Is he about to kiss me?_ My gaze unconsciously slipped down to his lips and found them slightly parted and getting closer to mine. My tongue darted out involuntarily to wet my bottom lip, eliciting an almost imperceptible low moan from Damon. Something in the back of my mind was screaming at me that this couldn't happen but, for the life of me, I couldn't think of why. My whole body was thrumming in anticipation and my nether regions were experiencing a heat wave, accompanied by unseasonably high humidity. Just when I thought the remaining millimeters of space between our mouths was about to evaporate, the sound of breaking glass broke our spell and we jumped apart.

“FUCK!” Came Tyler's voice from behind the bar.

“Y'okay, Ty? Wassa matter?” I yelled.

“Just broke a glass, shit. It's ok.”

 

Damon and I glanced at each other and laughed. The moment should've been awkward, I could help but think, but it wasn't. We just giggled at ourselves as if to say 'what the fuck was that'? “Well,” I announced, “I should prolly get goin'. Stef's prolly wonderin' where I am.” I grabbed my purse and pulled out my phone. “Yuuup. Three missed calls and tests. Textes. Fuck. Texts.” _Wow, drunk Elena is so eloquent._ I quickly shot a text back telling him I was just leaving the bar and was headed home, chuckling a little because I had to close one eye to do it.

“Do you love him?” Damon asked, out of nowhere.

“Who, Stefan?”

“No, Batman. Yes, my brother.”

“Course I do!”

“Does he love you?”

“Says 'e does 'n' I b'lieve 'im.”

“He treating you right?”

“Damon...” I drawled out in a warning tone.

“Easy, Gilbert. I'm just asking because I've grown rather fond of you in the last few hours and I'd hate to have to beat his sanctimonious ass and mess up his hero hair if he fucks up.”

“Damon!” I scolded, even as a traitorous giggle escaped my lips.

“I'll walk you home,” he said, jokingly offering me his arm. I swatted his arm away and mock-glared at him.

“No, 'm fine. It's only like a five minute walk. Thanks though. I had fun with you t'night.” I gave him a sincere grin and was taking a step to hug him when I tripped over my own feet and fell right into his solid chest. He caught me and for a moment I drunkenly relished the feeling of being wrapped in his warm embrace.

“Ok, drunky, you sure 'bout that?” He said, getting me settled back on my feet.

“Fine. But yer as drunk as I am.” I mumbled. Damon huffed a short laugh.

“Hardly. Lead the way, lushy-pants!”

 

As we walked I kept stumbling like the drunken fool I was. Damon had to catch me so many times that, after a few blocks, he gave up and just left his arm around my shoulders as I leaned on him for support. He smelled like leather and sex and something spicy that just seemed so uniquely _him._ We talked and laughed about nothing in particular all the way back to my building. When we rounded the corner and approached the front door we were still wrapped up in each other, laughing at my attempts to walk in a straight line, when I heard a voice I was not expecting. Not that I wasn't expecting to hear _his_ voice, but I wasn't expecting to hear it in that tone.

“What the FUCK is going on, Elena?”

 

Stefan was sitting on the stairs in front of the door, looking absolutely livid.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment and let me know what you think. Pretty please? ;-)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N This was a really hard chapter to write. A lot of this is going to be hard to write, actually, because this story is (loosely) based on events that happened to me in my late teens and early twenties. There might be lags between updates, here and there, when I'm struggling with working through some of the nastier stuff. I want to sincerely thank everyone who takes the time to read my little story. An extra special thanks to those who review/fave/follow. I can't thank you enough!

**CHAPTER 4**

 

Damon and I both froze. The sound of Stefan's voice sobered me up immediately and I took a step away from Damon's supportive arms, still swaying slightly, but able to stand on my own. _Gods, this must look really bad. How am I going to explain this?_ “Stefan, I-”

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO HER?!” Stefan's savage shout was aimed at Damon, completely ignoring me. Damon, who had been staring at Stefan with a blank expression, just rolled his eyes. “What? Nothing to say?” asked Stefan, rhetorically.

“Oh, I have plenty to say, Stefan. I just don't think you would actually hear any of it.” Damon replied in his typically snarky tone. Stefan stood up from his spot on the stairs and stalked over to Damon, stopping with his face only inches from his brother's.

“History will NOT. Be repeating itself. Got it?” Stefan yelled, punctuating the sentence with his finger, stabbing Damon in the shoulder. Damon just stood there and took it, a look on his face that seemed to say, 'are you done?', while he practically yawned in Stefan's face.

“You're right, _brother_ , it won't,” he replied, when Stefan was finished with his little display. “Because I actually _like_ Elena,” my heart swelled a little, “and she's not in love with me, unlike your precious _Katherine,_ ” he all but spat the name. My heart sunk a little, for some strange reason.

“MOTHERFUCKER!” Stefan launched himself at Damon, grabbed him by the throat and spun them around so that Damon's back was to the brick of my building, looking like he was about to slam him into it. That was enough for me.

“STEFAN!” I roared. Both boys stopped and stared at me. Damon looked impressed that I achieved so much volume, whereas Stefan looked murderous.

“Oh, that's just fucking perfect, isn't it?” Stefan asked, cooly, shaking his head and releasing his brother from his clutches. “You're defending him? Has he already fucked you?”

“Jesus, Stef, listen to yourself.”

“No, Stefan, it wasn't like that,” came our simultaneous replies.

“I just... I can't do this again,” was the last thing I heard before Stefan stormed away, leaving Damon and I standing still, stunned on the sidewalk.

 

“Are you ok?” I asked, weakly, once I had processed what just happened.

“Fine. You?”

“Yeah. I just don't know what came over him.”

“He thinks the worst of people, sometimes. You did nothing wrong, Elena. Don't let it get to you.” I couldn't help the niggling in the back of my mind, telling me that I had, in fact, done something wrong, albeit small. When I said nothing he continued, “He'll get over it and come around. And, if he doesn't, you still have the bigger, better Salvatore to count as an ally.” There was that winning smirk again. I managed a tiny, thin-lipped smile. “I'll see ya 'round, Gilbert.” He gave me a one-armed hug that was way too short and a torturously brief kiss on the forehead before he started to walk away. “Call or text me whenever!” He shouted behind him, as an afterthought.

 

* * *

 

4:45 am. Four fucking forty fucking five in the fucking morning. _Who DARES to knock on my door at four fucking forty five in the fucking morning? I'll kill them._ I mean, I was night owl, but this was pushing it. Especially because of the night I had had with Damon and the Stefan repercussions, I wasn't in the mood, and that's putting it lightly. Imagine my surprise when I saw one of the reasons for my shitty night through my peephole. I opened the door, annoyed. “What are you doing here, Stefan?” He brushed past me, like he fucking owned the place. I was on my last nerve. _It_ _'s_ _way too early for this shit._

“I needed to apologize and clear some things up,” he replied, with a wave of his left hand. He was drunk. I could smell it, all peat and malt, as much as I could see it, in his bloodshot eyes, and hear it, in his slightly increased volume. He wasn't over the edge yet, though. He was present, but not entirely himself.

 

“Now? Do we have to do this-”

“What happened tonight?” He interrupted. With a deep sigh, realizing there was nothing I could do to forestall the inevitable, I answered his question with one of my own.

“Whad'ya wanna know?”

“What were you doing with Damon? I thought you hated him?”

“I did,” I asserted. “But, well... He came into the bar tonight, didn't realize I worked there.” Stefan gave an incredulous huff. “We talked and got to drinking after my shift. He's really not as bad as I thought, or you make him out to be. We got along. Had fun. I like him, Stef. I know, I'm surprised, too. But I do. He's kinda good shit,” I said, with a breathy little laugh. He said nothing, so I continued. “He told me a little about Katherine.” He stiffened. “He said nothing happened between the two of them. I don't think he was lying.”

“He's playing you, Elena. It's just a nice act. It's not real. He has this burning desire to destroy any piece of happiness I find, so he's trying to use you against me. Look at how I found you two. Looked pretty cozy. You really think he wouldn't've tried to sleep with you if I wasn't there? I know my brother. That was his whole plan.”

I knew Stefan was wrong. I knew it down to my core. I wanted so badly for him to see the truth of the situation but I had no idea how to illuminate it for him. I certainly wasn't going to divulge _everything_ that happened; _especially_ not the almost-kiss. The idea that Stefan truly believed that Damon's befriending of me was part of some sort of nefarious plot to destroy Stefan's life was offensive, on so many levels. I had no idea what to say, I was at a complete loss (probably due to that late hour- thanks a lot Stef) so I just settled on, “I think you're wrong, love.”

“I don't want you to see Damon anymore,” he blurted, in a tone I did not appreciate.

“Stefan, you can't expect me to accept that. I don't take orders from you, or anyone, for that matter. You can't tell me who I can and cannot see. I love you and you know that, so even if what you're saying was true, which it isn't, you should trust that I wouldn't let that happen, because I love YOU. I'm with YOU.”

 

A feral growl escaped Stefan's lips and before I knew it I was pinned against the wall, being attacked with a brutal, bruising kiss. It was almost painful. _What the fuck has gotten into him?_ I wondered. I was kissing him back, a little, but trying to slow him down at the same time. Eventually I put my hands on his chest and pushed away just enough that I could look at him.

“Stefan, I'm not exactly in the mood right now.”

“Shut up,” he barked. That shocked me into silence. I had never seen Stefan like this before. Suddenly, he grabbed my shoulders in a punishing grip and started pushing me backwards towards my bed (which was just a mattress on the floor in the corner) with an evil, mischievous, menacing expression on his face. That face, alone, scared the fucking shit out of me. I can't, for the life of me, figure out why I let what happened next happen. Maybe I just thought that he needed it, that I had hurt him and this would make him feel better, that I was helping him. Maybe I was just so shocked that my brain shut down.

 

He shoved me down onto the bed and collapsed on top of me, violently ripping open the robe I was wearing (the ONLY thing I was wearing) and hastily shoving his jeans down to his knees. He grabbed my right breast with his left hand, squeezing painfully, using his right to position himself at my entrance. He looked into my eyes reproachfully and asserted, with a sneer, “You're MINE.” It wasn't a question, but still I found myself answering him.

“I'm yours,” I muttered, sheepishly. I had never heard my voice so weak, so demure, so damaged. At my words, Stefan smirked cruelly and slammed into me. No foreplay, no lubrication, it fucking hurt. I screamed, “FUCK! Stefan, that fucking HURT!”

“You fucking love it,” he replied. He started thrusting, hard and fast and unapologetic. His right hand moved to my shoulder where he pinned me down at the same time as he pulled me to meet his vicious thrusts. His left hand greedily grasped and groped everywhere he could reach. The sounds of his animalistic grunts and the slapping of flesh on flesh filled the apartment.

 

I couldn't believe he was acting this way. I felt completely powerless; something that I was NOT fond of, so I just laid there limply and took it, staring at the ceiling, hoping it would be over soon. The word 'rape' kept popping into my mind, but that couldn't possibly be what was happening, right? I mean Stefan was my _boyfriend_. We had consensual sex all the time, so this couldn't be rape. Right?

 

The burning and chaffing of my dry sex was starting to get worse and I was fighting back tears of pain (there was NO WAY I was letting him see me cry) when Stefan, all of a sudden, clamped both his hands down on my hips and started jackhammering into me impossibly fast and hard, before loudly shouting out his climax and collapsing on top of me. His sticky, sweat drenched skin on mine made me feel sick, and his rapid heart beat on my ribcage made me feel like my own was about to beat out of my chest.

“I love you, 'Lena. You know that, right?” Stefan asked as he clumsily rolled off me and settled to my side. I hesitated for a long few moments, unsure how to answer that, unsure how I was feeling. _He's just drunk,_ I reasoned.

“I know. I love you too,” came my eventual reply, but Stefan was already lightly snoring beside me. I knew there was no way in hell I was getting to sleep any time soon so I made my way to the kitchen, grabbed my bottle of Basil Hayden from the cabinet above the sink and downed two thirds of it before finally crawling back into bed and passing out for the night. I had dreams of a musical laugh and ice-blue eyes.

 

* * *

 

When I woke up Stefan was gone, thankfully. I didn't have to work until seven that night so I decided I was in dire need of some time with my girls. They could help me sort through this situation. I texted them both,

 

**-4 pm, the Grill-**

 

I made myself busy with laundry while I waited for them to get off school.

 

School. Being a teenager. There was a part of me that missed those days. I missed the version of me that was blissfully unaware of the lies and omissions of truth and betrayal. My 'parents' had no idea how to deal with emotions. I was pretty sure that, being so scientifically minded, they'd never even had one, between the two of them. I had always been frustrated with the lack of emotional support that I received from them, but after finding out about my true lineage, and their complete lack of sympathy, I had just had enough. I had to cut ties with them and do my own thing. Do I regret dropping out of school? Not really. I wasn't suited for contemporary education anyway. Don't get me wrong, my grades were outstanding, I'm no dummy, but I never really fit into the system. I found that the things they deemed important enough to teach us were uninteresting, at best. My interests were more subversive, and a career in the fields that held my interest was basically non-existent. So, I was a 17 year old drop-out bartender, living in a piece of shit apartment with hardly any furniture and plans to travel the world exhaustively, on as little coin as possible, and worry about later, well... later. Was that smart? Depends who you ask.

 

When the girls arrived I was still lost in thought, thinking about what might've been, what could've been, how my life turned out like this, how I was going to explain last night... In short, I was having a mini existential crisis. When I saw their faces, though, I knew one thing was for sure. They would have my back and help me sort through the shit storm that was raging inside my skull. I recounted the entire night to them. Damon's surprise appearance, our drunken shenanigans, Stefan finding us and going bat-shit and his subsequent drunken visit this morning, only leaving out some of the more graphic details of Stefan's... Physical reaction.

 

“What an asshole,” Caroline muttered, finally breaking the long, stunned silence that followed the end of my story. Bonnie nodded in agreement.

“I know. But he was just upset. He's really got it in his head that Damon is out to destroy his life.”

“What? Elena, I'm talking about Damon. You said it yourself. The man is a chauvinistic, womanizing man-whore and Stefan's right. He's trying to play you. It's obvious.”

 

For the first time, I felt the icy fingers of doubt wrap around my heart and I wondered if it could be true. Was it all a lie? Was he using me to get back at his little brother? I shook my head to dismiss the thought because there was no way. It couldn't be true. What transpired between us was too real, to organic, to be fabricated. You just can't make that shit up.

“Well,” Caroline said with a sigh. “At least you had hot make-up sex. That counts for something.”

“Yeah, about that...” I hesitated. I wanted to tell them what Stefan was really like that night but something was stopping me. I was actually embarrassed. I was ashamed of the fact that I had let him use my body to assert his dominance. It was just so unlike me that I couldn't bring myself to tell them. _Gods, what the fuck happened to my back bone?_ I thought. “It was pretty intense.” It wasn't a lie, but neither was it the whole truth. I was painting a black scene with bright colors to dress up the dark truth and I had no idea why I was doing it. Bonnie and Caroline both giggled (as I inwardly cringed). Bonnie reached her hand over the table to grasp mine and said,

“It'll blow over, 'Len. Just stay away from that douchebag brother and I'm sure everything will work out just fine.” 

_That's just the problem,_ I thought. _How do I stay away from him?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N I really hope that I conveyed the complicated emotions warring in Elena's head. It's a hard thing to describe. The helplessness, the confusion, the denial. Let me know what you think with a review. I would be forever grateful! As always, thanks for reading.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might seem like a bit of a filler chapter, and maybe it is, but it contains some important set up for later. Thanks again to all who read.

**CHAPTER 5**

The unfortunate aftermath of my night with Damon did, for the most part, blow over. Stefan pretty much pretended that nothing had happened and we hadn't spoken about it since. I happily went along with that for a few reasons. One, Stefan clearly had jealousy issues (there was a red flag waving in my mind that went unnoticed) and bringing up his brother seemed like an unwelcome can opener that would release a shit load of worms. Two, thinking about that night brought on a tempest of emotions that were nearly impossible to deal with; most notably anger (at Stefan's behavior) and shame (in myself for letting it happen). Lastly, since things had calmed down, I was enjoying the peace and had absolutely no intention of disturbing it.

 

It was a sunny Saturday in late May and Stefan and I were lounging in bed (he had stayed over at my place the night before), avoiding the idea of starting our day, when he brought up something I was not expecting.

“So my Dad got me a place in West Chester. I'm headed out there in early August so I can settle in before school starts. I was thinking you should come with me.” The way he said it was like it was a given that I would just pack up and leave with him because he had decided he wanted me to. “Once I finish pre-law there, I'll transfer to Harvard and I really think you'd love Boston.” It's true, I had always wanted to see Boston and I was sure I _would_ like it. I had skipped it on my cross-country road trip and always regretted it. That _so_ wasn't the point, though.

“You want me to just abandon my life here to follow you across the country?” I asked incredulously, with a hint of annoyance in my tone.

“What life here? Elena, you work a shitty, meaningless job in a shitty bar, you don't talk to your family and... Just look at where you live!” He gestured around the room. “What would you be missing? Come with me and we'll live in a nice bug and murder free building. It'll be a huge step up for you. I mean, shit 'Lena, you should be thrilled I'm offering.” I was beyond pissed off.

 

“What life? WHAT LIFE?!” I angrily scrambled out of bed and started throwing clothes on in a rush. He wasn't allowed to see me naked right now because I was far too livid to allow even that level of vulnerability in his presence. “It's _MY_ life, Stefan! MINE! I've worked my ass off for the modest, 'shitty' life that I have, which, I know, is hard for a spoiled fucking trust fund brat like you to understand, but I'm actually _proud_ of myself for what I've done. So if you can't be, if you think my life is such shit that I should just throw it away for some boy, if you have NO respect for me at all, which you clearly don't, then I think you should get the FUCK out of my shitty apartment and my shitty life RIGHT THE FUCK NOW!” Stefan's jaw was twitching and I could see a vein on his forehead throbbing from across the room. _Ooooh wow. This is gonna be a serious fight._

 

“SOME BOY?!” He shouted as he performed a reenactment of my earlier angry dressing. “Excuse me, _El-e-na,_ after being together for over six months I have _no_ _idea_ what caused me to think that I was even slightly above _'some boy'_ status to you. Enjoy your shitty little life, Elena. Hey, maybe you can find my brother and the two of you can waste away in filth together! Sounds just... Peachy!” The sardonic grin he wore belied his cruel words.

“Don't you DARE bring that up!” I shouted, all vehemence and fury.

“Whatever. I'm leaving. See you later. Or never.” With that, he stormed out of my apartment, slamming the door loudly on the way out.

 

_Well, happy birthday to me._

 

* * *

 

Later that night I met Bonnie and Caroline at 'East End', a bar on MLK that always had good live music. As it turned out, the bouncer was a friend of mine who used to work at Jo's. “Ric!” I almost squealed when I saw him. I launched myself into his arms and he gave me one of his patented bear hugs.

“'Lena! Happy birthday! I didn't know you were coming here tonight!”

“Me neither,” I said as he released me from his crushing grasp. “Last minute decision. This girl needs to get her drink on. You remember Bon and Care?” He nodded and smiled at the two of them. “I didn't know you were working here. As a bouncer, no less!” He was the cook at Jo's, but he got tired of the long hours and shitty pay and quit a few months ago. “But I guess you fit the profile,” I laughed. Ric was massive. Six feet of pure muscle, he would be intimidating if it wasn't for his face, which was the kindest face I had ever seen. People immediately liked him when they met him. His sandy brown hair and hazel eyes accentuated that face, making him quite a hit with the ladies but, much to the chagrin of said ladies, Ric was strictly a one woman guy. I wondered if he was seeing anyone now. His last one had done quite a number on him. “Who's playing tonight?” I asked, to change the subject of my own thoughts.

“Death Metal band. They're called 'Hemingway'. The singer is actually a buddy of mine. They're fuckin' awesome and right up your alley. Their shows are always packed, so get your drinks early. It'll be hard once they go on,” Ric warned.

“Hemingway? That's an... Odd name for a metal band.”

“Yeah, you're not kidding” he laughed. “Don't worry about cover, birthday girl,” he said, as I tried to pass him some cash. “You girls are on me, but just do me a favor and behave. I don't wanna get in trouble for letting you in, k?” Ric was one of the few people who knew my actual age.

“You got it. Thanks!” I hugged him again. “See you after maybe?”

“Maybe,” he replied with a wink.

 

Once we were in we grabbed our drinks and sat at one of the few tables in the back. Most of the floor space was cleared out to make way for the inevitable moshing that accompanied a metal show. Caroline was gabbing about some inane high school gossip that I was pretending to listen to as I distractedly picked at the label on my beer. I just wanted the show to start already so I could lose myself in the music. After the abhorrent morning I had, I really needed to unwind in the pit. Getting into a violent mosh pit was like opening a soda can for me. All the pressure of my day to day existence was released and I could just _be._ Just _feel_. Sure, I got knocked down a bunch, due to my small stature in a sea of beastly men and, sure, I was usually covered in bruises the next day but, damn, did it ever feel freeing. I loved the anarchy, the pain, the power of the throng.

 

“Are you gonna let us in on your secret 'Len?” Bonnie's voice pulled me from my thoughts. “You're oddly quiet.” I sighed, noticing two expectant faces that I knew would see right through me if I tried to say it was nothing. I recounted the events of the morning, this time going into full detail. It had been weighing heavily on my mind. I was starting to think Stefan was right; I didn't really have much going for me here. I _did_ work a shitty job and I _did_ live in a shitty apartment and I _did_ have a shitty family. But I had my friends and I would miss them. Then again, was I ready to give up on the man I loved to hold onto my shitty life and my two friends, who I could call whenever I wanted and visit occasionally? Did I love him that much? I wasn't even so sure. Even though things had 'gone back to normal' after the night-that-shall-not-be-named, there was still a difference in our relationship. I was more withdrawn from him and he had lost some of his warmth. It was all so confusing. I didn't know what to do.

 

“Not that you asked for an opinion,” Bonnie began, after I rehashed our fight and my thoughts about the possible move; “but I think you should do it.” _What?_ I expected that from Caroline, the hopeless romantic, who would do anything for love, but not from Bonnie, the thoughtful pragmatist. “Think about it like this,” she continued. “It's an experience. Worse comes to worst, just come home. No big deal. Stefan's right that there's not really anything tying you to this place. So, why not? You thrive on experience, so go. Go thrive. We'll still be here,” she gestured between herself and Caroline, who was grinning and nodding her head.

“I fucking love you guys,” I muttered, shaking my head in amazement.

“Aww, we love you too! And we'll miss you like crazy, but you can visit any time!” Caroline shouted. They both launched themselves at me and we giggled through a giddy group hug.

“I haven't made up my mind yet,” I sat back down in my seat; “but it means a lot that I have your support. Fuck, I just kinda sounded like a politician.” We all laughed.

 

Just then the music started. I hadn't even noticed the band taking the stage or introducing themselves but, now that I thought about it, I had noticed that I had to shout my last few sentences. When I turned my head to the stage I saw what you could call a typical metal band. All four of them decked out in black, head to toe, with a few spikes here and there. Pretty normal. What got the blood rushing to my face was the singer. Damon Salvatore. I knew he was in a band but I never bothered to ask what they were called, or even what genre they played. _Fuck me,_ _he looks_ _good_ _with a guitar_ _._ I found myself smiling a secret smile that Caroline caught before I wiped it from my face. I shrugged at her quirked eyebrow and mouthed, 'they're awesome'.

 

They _were_ good, too. Their music was heavy but melodic, with interesting rhythms that were truly unique, occasionally breaking down into light, airy riffs and then picking up again. I was definitely impressed and, though I'm loath to admit it, fangirl-ing a little. _I can't believe I know the singer!_

 

~

Devil cracked the earthly shell

Foretold she was the one

Blew hope into the room and said:

You have to live before you die young

~

 

Damon's powerful voice had me covered in goosebumps. He switched from a guttural growl to a soothingly sweet crooning seamlessly, effortlessly. I glanced over at my friends. Bonnie was watching with thinly veiled disinterest (she hated these shows but came along anyway- probably due to the fact that it was my birthday) and Caroline was practically drooling, her mouth hanging open like a stroke victim. “That singer is fucking HOT!” She yelled over the music.

“Yeah... Guys, that's Damon.” I gestured towards stage with my head.

“WHAT?!” They both shouted.

“Like, Stefan's douchebag brother, Damon?” Caroline screeched.

“He's not a douchebag,” I reasoned.

“WHAT?” Bonnie asked.

“Never mind,” I replied, louder this time. It was no use trying to communicate verbally.

 

~

In time the hissing of her sanity

Faded out her voice and soiled her name

And like marked pages in a diary

Everything seemed clean that was unstained

The incoherent talk of ordinary days

Why would we really need to live?

Decide what is clear and what's within a haze

What you should take and what to give

~

 

I couldn't get over how good Damon's band was. _Hemingway,_ I thought. _Huh._ I wondered how much that band name had to do with Damon's whole 'I'm a misogynist jerk' routine. When the song ended and Damon addressed the crowd I was just wondering whether or not he had noticed me when his eyes landed on mine and my question was answered; he did now. He cut off his sentence with a “Holy shit. Just a sec, guys”, before turning around a shoving his guitar in the bassists hands and then launching himself off stage, much to the confusion of his bandmates (and the fans). He pushed his way through the crowd until he got to me, wrapped me up in his arms and lifted me in a twirling hug, whispering “Happy birthday” in my ear. When he set me down again I was giggling like a school girl.

“How did you know it was-”

“It's on your Facebook, silly girl!” He said, tapping my nose affectionately with his index finger. “Anyway, I've got a show to do. Don't go anywhere! I'll come find you after.” I nodded with a grin and he climbed back on stage to resume the set.

 

Before they got going again he whispered something to his band mates and then came back on the mic, announcing, “Tonight, we're gonna switch it up a little bit. There's a song I wanna add to the set list

that goes out to a good friend of mine on her birthday.” He winked at me. To my shock and delight, Damon started plucking out the opening riff of 'Heart Shaped Box'. _He remembers our song._

“Wooo!” I shouted through giggles, pumping my fist in the air. _Wait. Our song? What the fuck, Elena?_ Caroline was staring at me, mouth agape, and Bonnie was glaring daggers at Damon. Bonnie's glare wasn't the only one taking place in that bar at that moment. I noticed several sets of female eyes latched onto me, all green and murderous. I didn't care. I was riding high on alcohol, music and the joy of seeing Damon again.

 

It was weird, in a way. We hadn't seen each other since the night-that-shall-not-be-named, but it felt like no time had passed. When he hugged me it felt like hugging my best friend in the world. He was my confidant, my compadre, my comrade, to hell with what other people said about him. Once the Nirvana cover was over, they switched to a heavier one of their own and I decided it was high time for some moshing and threw myself into the pit. I thrashed about in my violence induced bliss until, between songs, they paused to fix a mic problem and I decided to rejoin my friends. “We're gonna go,” Bonnie announced cooly.

“What? No! You hafta stay!” I protested.

“I'm really tired, 'Len, and you know this isn't Bonnie's scene,” Caroline reasoned. “You coming with?”

“No, I wanna wait and hang out with Ric for a few.”

“Also gives you the opportunity to hang out with your 'good friend' Damon,” Bonnie spat, using air quotes.

“Bon...”

“It's ok Elena. Happy birthday and I love you. But don't think I won't be demanding an explanation later.”

“I haven't even seen him since-”

“Elena, it's fine, really,” Caroline soothed, shooting a sharp look at Bonnie. “We'll talk tomorrow, k?” I nodded and watched as my two best friends walked out the door, bewildered as to what had got Bonnie in such a snit.

 

* * *

 

The show was over and the night was winding down as the crowd in the bar started thinning. Ric was leaning on the back wall, opposite the stage, bourbon in hand and I was standing in front of him with a double bourbon of my own, thanks to him. He was telling me all about the woman he had just started seeing and I couldn't help the goofy smile on my face at how happy he sounded. He deserved it, more than anyone I knew. Suddenly I noticed Ric squinting at something behind me but, before I could turn around to look, I felt strong arms wrap around me from behind in an embrace that almost knocked the wind out of me.

 

“You're too small to be in a mosh pit,” came a smooth voice from my shoulder. “I almost stopped playing a few times to drag you outa there.”

“Damon, you guys were fucking outstanding!” I shouted when I turned around to see his beaming face. The twinkle in his beautiful blue eyes was hypnotic. “Plus, no broken bones, see? I'm good.”

“You were a fucking beast in there. I've never seen a girl handle herself like that in the pit. You gave as good as you got, killer. But, yeah. That was a good show. Best part? There was a label exec here tonight. He offered us a deal. We're getting signed! We have a contract meeting tomorrow!”

“Holy shit, that's amazing!” I exclaimed before launching myself back into his arms. He lifted me up and we both laughed ecstatically. “I'm so incredibly fucking happy for you!” I gushed when he let me go. “And kinda jealous. You're gonna be famous!”

“We play death metal, Gilbert, not top forty. We won't exactly be a household name.”

“Still!” I squealed, no longer able to resist jumping up and down in excitement. A not-so-subtle throat clearing reminded me of the friend I was currently neglecting.

“That's sic, D. So, you two know each other then?” Ric asked.

“Yeah, she's dating my brother.” A look of recognition passed over Ric's face and he rolled his eyes a little, as if to suggest he should've figured it out sooner.

“Stefan, of course! Not sure why I didn't put two and two together until just now. Small world. Elena and I used to work together at Jo's.” Damon nodded and I looked at the floor. The mention of Stefan had killed my mood, momentarily. I had decided just a few hours ago that I was going to follow him across the country and I was more than a little hesitant about it. There was this part of me that was screaming that it was a bad idea but I ignored it because, logically, there was no reason why I shouldn't. Right?

 

I quickly shoved all thoughts of Stefan aside so I could celebrate with my friends. Damon, Ric and I drank and joked until the wee hours of the morning. Damon was the first to leave and I was close behind him, gathering my purse and hoodie, when Ric announced, “He's different with you.”

“Pardon?”

“He's... Not such a dick,” he laughed, a little uncomfortably.

“Yeah,” I chuckled along with him; “we kinda bonded over some tequila shots a while ago. We just... get each other, you know? He's really good shit, once he lets you in.”

“Don't I know it,” Ric mumbled as he gave me another bear hug and kissed the side of my head. “Bye 'Lena. Happy birthday.”

“Thanks! Bye Ric!” I waved as I left to catch a cab.

 

As I walked in my door I couldn't help but think that, despite the rough start, this had turned into one of the best birthdays ever. Tomorrow I would sort things out with Stefan. My heart launched into my throat when I flicked on the lights and saw the aforementioned Salvatore sitting on my bed, back against the wall, legs crossed at the ankles, hands clasped in his lap, looking cool as a cucumber. Cool as a cucumber in January, that is. Fucking frigid.

 

“So, how is my brother?” he asked.

 

_Bastard son of Yahweh, why does this keep happening?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song used was 'Ghost of Perdition' by Opeth. If you're into metal you should look it up. Hell, even if you're not, check them out. They're amazing.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N I'm back. I know, this chapter took forever, but I just couldn't get it right. I'm still not all that happy with it, so there may be some edits coming, but the gist of it will probably stay the same. I just felt like I've kept you guys waiting for so long, I had to post something. Let me know how much it sucks by leaving a review!

**CHAPTER 6**

 

_**December, 2013** _

 

The bathroom floor is cold. The faucet taps out an ominous, melancholy beat with its slow and constant drip... Drip... Drip... The ancient pipes creak and moan in this house that is old as sin. I can't get used to how _old_ everything is, here. The house was built over a hundred years ago (and has since been converted into apartments) and I hate it. I jump at every noise, afraid of what's coming, but the bathroom is safe. I lock the doors on either side and curl up on the floor, just waiting for it all to be over. I try to remove myself from the situation by thinking of happier things, but all I can focus on is the fact that the doors are safe. He's outside them. The bathroom is safe. He'll be asleep soon. The floor is cold. Drip. Drip. Drip.

 

Sometimes, after he's passed out drunk, I sit up alone, just staring into the darkness, thinking about the night that changed everything. What if, what is, what could've been... 'What-if's' and 'what-could've's' don't matter much, though, when you're faced with some pretty fucking dire 'what-can's'. And it's the 'what can' that has me hiding, huddled under a towel, locked in the bathroom, letting myself cry for the first time in years because I finally realize the severity of the situation that awaits me outside that room.

 

If I don't get out soon he is going to kill me.

 

_**May, 2011** _

 

“So, how is my brother?”

“He's great, actually.” I tried to play it cool. After all, I hadn't done anything wrong and had nothing to hide. “Seems they might be getting a record deal. Hemingway. His band,” I added as an afterthought, thinking there was a possibility Stefan didn't even know what the band was called. After all, I didn't until tonight.

“I told you not to see him anymore.”

“Yes, Stef. You did, indeed. Here's the thing, though. One, I am an autonomous creature. You do not have control over me. I haven't gone out of my way to see him, for your benefit, but it's not like I'm gonna shun him if we do run into each other because, whether you like it or not, he's my friend. Two, I didn't even know he was playing there tonight. Ask the girls. We had no idea.”

“Funny you should mention the girls,” Stefan said in a light, conversational tone that had my skin crawling because I knew it was anything but. He examined his nails casually as he continued, “Bonnie called me tonight, all concerned because you and my brother appeared to be thick as thieves. She said when the two of you were talking it was like there was nobody else in the room. She was worried about what kind of crap he's trying to pull that you're obviously falling for.”

 

_Note to self: Pencil Bonnie in for murder tomorrow. I think I have time around 11._

 

“Bonnie's never even met him,” I sighed. “And I don't think you've had a real conversation with him in way too long. I really don't think either of you has a clue what you're talking about.” Feeling completely defeated, I walked over to my bed and sat down next to Stefan, mirroring his pose. I was just so tired of this argument.

“Thing is,” he went on as if I hadn't spoken; “I wanted to be mad about that but... She also told me you're considering coming with me to PA.”

I turned to look at him and saw him smiling at me. _Really_ smiling. He looked... Happy. Every muscle in my body, all of which had tensed in preparation for World War Salvatore, relaxed at once. This was a pleasant surprise. I had a fleeting thought that I shouldn't be _surprised_ that my boyfriend was being all nice and reasonable, but I ignored it.

“Of course I am,” I replied. “I would be a fool not to. You were right this morning, Stef. I'm so sorry about how I acted. It was just a bit sudden and I kinda freaked out. I would love to come with you.” Stefan's sweet smile grew a little and looked more like a victorious sneer for just a second before he grabbed me and pulled me into his lap, showering my face with kisses.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me, baby.” I giggled as he tickled me lightly. He planted a tender kiss on my lips and then leaned his forehead against mine. “And it's so great that this happened on your birthday. Now we'll never forget the day we decided to live together.”

“Yeah, because heaven forbid we just celebrate my birthday because it was the day I was born. Now we have a _real_ reason to celebrate,” I deadpanned.

“Oh, you know what I mean, Lena,” he replied, tickling me again. I half-heartedly swatted his hands away and mock-glared at him. Before I knew it, Stefan had flipped us and I found myself pinned underneath him, my wrists being held above my head, as he stared into my eyes with a fiery intensity. His mouth latched onto mine harshly as his right hand released its grip on my wrist and moved downwards to undo my black skinny jeans.

 

Within moments he had us both naked. I was still beneath him, being held in his punishing grip. His green gaze bore into mine once again, a sinister sort of fire burning in his eyes when he said, “This thing you have with my brother? It needs to stop. He's just trying to get to me. Believe me, if you weren't dating me, he wouldn't give a girl like you the time of day.”

_A girl like me?_

“You're MINE.”

_This again?_

“I love you so much.” With that, he pushed himself into me in one solid motion and paused briefly, groaning at the contact. As he started to move he turned his head to the side, watching himself fuck me in the mirror against the wall. His face twisted into a sardonic grin, like he was playing a game that was too easy and he was winning. I really didn't understand these moods he got into. It was like I didn't even know this Stefan. Regardless, for the second time, I let him have his way, feeling more than a little like a masturbatory aid, rather than a lover. If that was what he needed, though, I was willing to give it to him. I was lucky to have him, really. He was smart, handsome, well off and in love with _me_ , of all people. I could put up with his little moods every once in a while. Right?

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next afternoon found me at Bonnie's door. Her murder appointment had to be pushed back a little, on account of me sleeping in until 12:30. _Better late than never,_ I thought. No sooner had she answered the door than I was storming past her into the living room. “Ok, what the _FUCK_ is your problem, Bon?”

“Well, hello to you too.” Bonnie gently shut the door behind her and leaned against it, welcoming me with a blank stare. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Why the fuck would you call Stefan and feed him all that bullshit about me and Damon?!”

“What's wrong, Elena? Something to hide?”

“Jeebus,” I exclaimed through a shaky breath. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sat down on the couch with my elbows on my knees. “Why do I feel like the whole world is against me where Damon is concerned?” The question was more directed at myself than anyone else.

“Maybe because everyone but you can see that the guy is bad news. I'm just worried about you, 'Len.” Bonnie's tone had softened and she had joined me on the couch, her previous iciness replaced by a look of sympathy.

“You know, it's funny,” I chuckled dryly. “The whole reason he acts the way he does, why he puts on that roughed-up-edges show, is because everyone, and I mean _everyone_ , immediately thinks the worst of him. I think he just finds it easier to fulfill the stereotype. But if you actually get to know him... He's a really good guy, Bon. Once he let me in I felt like I'd known him for years. You didn't even talk to him. I have no idea where this is coming from for you. And I'm getting really fucking sick of people judging our friendship,” I finished with a sigh and leaned back on the couch, holding my palms to my forehead before letting my arms fall limp at my sides. Having said my piece, I just waited for any kind of response from Bonnie. She kept me waiting quite a while before she finally spoke.

“I'll give you one thing. When I saw the interaction between you two, you _did_ look like old friends. He _did_ seem to legitimately care about you. But that's what worries me. How well do you really know this guy? I mean, he's chalk full of charisma and you're, well-”

“Don't you say it, Bonnie,” I interrupted.

“No, Elena. Sorry, but you need to hear this. You're- _we're_ \- young and naive, as much as you'd like to deny it. Guys like him take advantage of girls like us every day.”

“It's not like that. We have this weird connection. We just get each other. I can't explain it. Fuck, I'm getting tired of this spiel...”

“It's not just that, though, 'Len. I had a really bad feeling.”

 

Bonnie and her _feelings_. She fancied herself something of a psychic because she had a 'powerful intuition'. Granted, something bad usually did happen after one of her 'feelings', but it was usually completely unrelated to the thing she was having the feeling about, so I brushed it off as coincidence. There was always something bad happening to someone, somewhere. But Bonnie insisted that she was psychic and just needed to learn to read her 'premonitions', or whatever you would call them, better. It always seemed like it was better to humor her, though, so I did.

 

“What kind of feeling?”

“Okay, remember we were talking about you moving?”

“Yeah, and you were the one who convinced me it was a good idea.” I raised an eyebrow.

“Well, right after that I had this horrible sinking feeling, like you were in serious danger. That's when Damon walked up to you. The guy is dangerous, Lena. I just know it.”

“Have you considered that maybe you were having that feeling because I'm leaving? I mean, I get it, Bon. I'm nervous about it too. Maybe you were just feeding off of that nervous energy.”

“Why are you so nervous about it?” Bonnie asked, distracting herself from her fit of unsolicited Damon-hatred.

“It's just a big commitment, you know? It's scary.”

“Yeah, it's a bit of a big deal. Stefan's amazing, though. He treats you like gold and you guys are perfect together. What could go wrong?”

 

_There are those famous last words again._ I nervously fidgeted with the hem of my shirt, debating whether or not I sure tell her about Stefan's recent behavior. I decided against it, though, figuring I was probably reading too much into it. I mean, couples fight, right? Everyone has their flaws so things like that were unavoidable. “Yeah, I know. You're right. It's just a big change and I can't help being a little freaked out.” Bonnie gave me a warm hug and a sympathetic look.

 

* * *

 

When I left Bonnie's I was feeling more confident about my decision and decidedly less murder-y. I was also feeling oddly compelled to talk to Damon, so I sent him a quick text. He wrote back immediately, giving me his address and asking me if I wanted to stop by. He buzzed me in when I got there and I found his door open when I reached his floor. Damon was lounging on a beat up leather couch in the living room, his guitar propped up next to him, furiously scribbling on a notepad. “Hey,” I sheepishly announced, feeling like I was interrupting, even though he invited me over.

“Hey back,” he replied, not looking up. “Sorry, just finishing something.”

“What're you working on?” I asked as I approached him.

“Song,” he mumbled distractedly as he finished his frantic scribbling and finally looked up at me with a smile.

“Oooh, what's it called?” I asked, lifting up his feet so I could sit next to him and then placing them back down in my lap, giving his ankle a little squeeze as I did so.

“It's called 'Elena',” he crooned, batting his eyelashes at me.

“Fuck off, smart ass.” I rolled my eyes, grabbing his big toes and twisting them.

Damon yelped, through laughter, and exclaimed, “Hey! I need those! Anyway,” he shrugged; “doesn't have a name yet.”

“Can I hear it?”

“You wish, Gilbert.”

“Buzzkill.” He winked at me.

“So, what's up, buttercup? Twice in two days; I feel like I've won the lottery.”

“Flattery will get you _everywhere_ , Salvatore.” Damon's answering smirk made me happy I was sitting down. “ _Almost_ everywhere,” I added and giggled at the ridiculously adorable pout that followed afterwards. “I do have news for you, though.”

“Have you uncovered a latent talent for nasal beach ball balancing and you're off to join the circus? Discovered that all this time it really _was_ gnomes stealing your underpants and you've destroyed the colony? Or no, you probably enslaved them to do your girly bidding. Wait. No. I know. You've been reunited with your bisexual, nymphomaniac, long lost twin who's really into bad boy rock stars. That's it, right?”

“Remind me why I like you?” Suppressing my laughter was quite the chore.

“My good looks and charm?”

“And your humility. Definitely.”

“Ok, ok. What's the haps, Gilbert?”

“I'm moving to PA with Stef. And don't ever say that again. I'm vicariously embarrassed.”

 

Damon's light mood turned serious. “Well. That's not what I was expecting. I was half worried you were gonna tell me you were pregnant or something.”

“Well, how bad would that be, really? I mean, I do support stem cell research.”

“Christ, you're morbid.”

“Practice makes perfect.”

“So, my saintly bro has convinced you to leave the promised land for a little misguided pilgrimage, hey? I can't pretend that I'm not completely devastated. Who'm I gonna fantasize about and flirt with inappropriately?”

“I'm sure you'll make do,” I deadpanned. Damon chuckled. He might make do, but I couldn't shake the inexplicable feeling that I might not. Sensing my mood, Damon opened his arms to me with a questioning look. I collapsed into him, resting my head between his neck and his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around me. The sound of his heart beat resonating from beneath his sternum was like a lullaby, calming me and enveloping me in a transcendent sense of security. I still had trouble believing how safe and comfortable I felt with this man. It made no sense. I barely knew him.

“What's really bothering you?” He asked, intuitively, the low rumble of his voice reverberating through me like a purr from my own chest while his hand gently stroked my back. I paused, debating with myself, not sure if it would be weird to talk to him about what I was really thinking. My internal debate was won within moments and the floodgates opened, releasing a deluge of fears, insecurities and reservations. I told him everything. Everything that I couldn't bring myself to tell Bonnie and Caroline, everything about how Stefan had been acting and how I'd let him. By the time I finished, Damon's grip on me was fierce, his body tense and his breathing shallow.

 

“I'm gonna fucking kill him,” he spit out, through clenched teeth.

“What? No, Damon,” I said as I sat up to look at him. His expression was murderous. “It's not that big a deal. He's just been off lately and I don't know what's up with him.”

“Not a big deal?! He RAPED you, Elena! How can you say it's not a big deal?”

“Fucks sake, he didn't _rape_ me! He was just a little rough that night. Gods, I wish I didn't even tell you that part. Of course you'd take it that way.”

“Okay, whatever you say, I wasn't there. But I'm gonna say this, Elena. If he _ever_ lays an errant fucking finger on you, you tell me right away. And you get the _fuck_ out, ok? I'm serious. I don't care if he's my brother. I'll fucking destroy him.”

“You're so dramatic! He's obviously going through something right now. I think whatever happened with Katherine really screwed him up. He's paranoid all the time. I feel bad for him. He just needs someone to love him and not fuck him over and break his heart. He just hasn't realized yet that I'm already doing that. He'll figure it out.”

Damon sighed. “I hope you're right, Gilbert.”

 

_So do I, Salvatore. So do I._

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I know, I know, 3 months and no update. I suck. I blame mostly writer's block and a touch of being busy with work. Anyway, here's the latest instalment. I hope you guys like it and please, please review if you have anything to say about it (good or bad), I love hearing your comments!

**CHAPTER 7**

"Anyway, I hafta get ready for our contract meeting."

"Oh shit!" I replied. "I totally forgot about that! I'm so sorry!" I jumped off the couch and started towards the door.

"Relax, Gilbert!" Damon said, standing and grabbing my wrist. "There's plenty of time. I'm just gonna hop in the shower. Stay. Hang out. I could use the company, to be honest. Don't you dare tell anyone, but I'm a bit nervous." I failed miserably at stifling a chuckle. "Oh yeah, laugh it up..."

"What?" I exclaimed. "I said nothing!"

"Whatever," he mumbled, shaking his head and disappearing into the bathroom.

Once he was out of sight I flopped back down on the couch, finally taking the opportunity to observe my surroundings. His place was nicer than mine, but not by much. It was a concrete building, so at least you couldn't hear the neighbors, but it still lacked basic updates. The laminate flooring looked relatively new, but that was the only redeeming quality of the place. The windows were ancient, the appliances looked like they were passed down from the Flintstones and the white paint on the walls was chipped and dull. His sparse furniture looked like it came from craigslist and I wouldn't've been the least bit surprised to find paper plates and plastic cups in his kitchen cupboards, if I had had the inclination to snoop. In startling contrast, however, to the obvious lack of money or effort put into the general atmosphere of the place, there lay in front of me a collection of guitars that would be the envy of any musician. He even had one of those fancy digital pianos that I knew cost thousands. Damon clearly spent every penny he had on his craft and cared little about his environment.

I gingerly picked up the Gibson acoustic that I had seen propped against the couch beside him when I came in. I knew this guitar was not cheap, as I had seen similar ones in music stores with price-tags that equalled months of paychecks for me. I tentatively made an E-minor and gently strummed my thumb across the strings, instantly shivering as all the hairs on my arm stood on end at the beauty of that sound.  _Holy fuck_ ,  _no wonder people pay so much for these._ My temporary solitude giving me courage, I started plucking out the tune to 'Blackbird' by the Beatles, softly singing in my breathy rasp, harmonizing the best I could with the gentle reverberations of the Gibson in my lap.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to arise.

...

As I finished the last verse I closed my eyes and let the last note hang in the air, reveling in the smooth sound of the impeccable guitar mixed with my gravely voice. "Wow." I jumped almost a foot in the air when he spoke, just about dropping the guitar in the process, but protecting it with my life in the end, taking a knee to the coffee table instead.

"Ow, FUCK! How long were you watching me?" I demanded to know. When I spun around to glare at him for invading my private moment ( _It's his apartment, dipshit),_ I noticed there was a tear in his eye that he immediately wiped away when he saw my expression soften. "Sorry. I didn't mean to..."

He sighed. "My mom used to sing that song to Stefan when he was a baby." My eyes went wide and I suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable. "It always calmed him down when nothing else would."

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to try out your-"

"Elena. Don't worry about it. I've never heard it sung so beautifully since my mother died." He paused, looking past my shoulder, before continuing; "You didn't tell me you could sing. And play. What else are you hiding from me?"

"Well," I stood up slowly and faced him. I couldn't stand the way he was looking at me, like I might be the cause of, but mostly the solution to, all the worlds problems. It was a look of reverence and of wonder and one that had never been directed at me before and, frankly, I didn't have a fucking clue how to deal with it. So, I deflected. "I have the power to harness souls and use them to do my bidding. All it takes is just one... TOUCH!" I shouted as I launched myself at him. He was too quick, though, and continued dodging my attacks as I chased him around his living room until we were both doubled over laughing, gasping for air.

"You are completely insane," Damon said, shaking his head with a smile.

"Takes one to know one!" I teased, sticking my tongue out at him.

"And 12, apparently. And that doesn't even make sense. But I guess that proves my point."

"Hey, I'm just here trying to help my friend who pretends to be a total bad-ass but who's shitting his pants over a job interview!" I sang, giving him my most innocent look while flipping my ponytail.

"You're paying for that, Gilbert!" He announced with a sneer before attacking me with tickles and we were once again chasing each other around his apartment. Eventually he caught me and had me pinned to the kitchen counter from behind, both of us laughing and panting. He rested his chin on my shoulder and I couldn't help but notice the overwhelming feeling of comfort that washed over me. Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

I turned around to look at Damon and saw the confusion on his face. He clearly wasn't expecting anyone. He smirked mischievously and ruffled my hair before heading over to answer the door while I stayed leaning against the counter. When I heard the voice of our surprise guest I froze.

"Damon."

"Stefan, what are you doing here?"

* * *

_**December, 2013** _

I wake up on the bathroom floor, every muscle in my body screaming at me. I have no idea what time it is because there are no windows in here. All I hear is silence so I slowly open one of the doors, trying to be as quiet as possible. The window in the hall tells me it's still nighttime. I creep down the hall like a frightened teenager in a horror movie until I reach the living room. The scene I find seizes the last fragile fragment of the girl who still knows what it means to be Elena Gilbert and crushes it into a shower of dust that scatters and falls in glistening drops like the tears that immediately spring to my eyes.

The tv is still on, just a blank blue screen, illuminating the room in an eery glow. That  _thing_  is sprawled out on the couch, fast asleep, still clutching a half-empty beer bottle that is spilling it's contents onto his chest, a few drops at a time, with every breath. The coffee table is tipped over, there are cigarette butts all over the floor, the curtains are barely hanging from the window, but none of that concerns me. What does is what is laying on the floor in the middle of the room. My guitar. My Seagull acoustic. The last gift my parents had given me before we stopped talking. The  _only_ gift they had ever given me with  _my_  happiness in mind.

I still remember the argument I had with my Dad. I told him I wanted to learn music and he told me I was wasting my time, that 'you can't make a career in music'. I had screamed at him to stop trying to make me into his little puppet and he screamed at me to grow up. Much to my surprise, for my sixteenth birthday I received a one of a kind, very expensive guitar and a warm hug from both my Father and my Mother, with whispered words that they don't think art is the right thing for me but if it would make me happy they would support it. "You're not an artist, Elena. You'll realize that one day. But we love you," my Dad had said. Bittersweet.

Before this night it was safely tucked away in it's case. Now it's laying in the middle of the living room floor. Well, half of it is, anyway. The other half is against the wall. In this moment I feel like the remnants of that instrument. I'm broken.

* * *

_**May, 2009** _

_Well, this is less than ideal,_ I thought when I heard Stefan's voice. I decided to stay hidden in the kitchen for now, lest he pick up on my flushed cheeks and shortened breath. He was already paranoid enough, I didn't need to give him ideas.

"I came to talk to you about Elena." I rolled my eyes. Figures.

"What about Elena?"

"She's  _mine_."

"She's not a piece of property, but I realize that she's your girlfriend. What's your point?"

"She's coming with me to Pennsylvania."

"Do you want a cookie?" I held back a snicker.

"NO, goddamnit Damon! I just want you to leave her alone! I know you hate me but just... Whatever plan you have to destroy me... Just  _please_  leave her out of it. She doesn't deserve to be sucked into your games."

I was touched. I was monumentally pissed off, but I was also touched. As misguided as he was, Stefan was standing up for me, trying to protect me from invisible evils. I felt so conflicted. I wanted to hug him and punch him with equal measures of ferocity.

"What plan to destroy you? Steffie, I think you're doing a fine job of that on your own. And as far as Elena goes-"

It was then that I realized that this would never be resolved without full disclosure and open communication. I interrupted; "Damon. Let him in."

"Elena?" Stefan asked in a gasp as he barged past his brother.

"Hey," I smiled sheepishly.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" His face was bright red and contorting into a look of pure disgust as he looked between myself and Damon.

"Oh, you know, the usual Sunday Special," Damon replied; "Drinking, sucking, fucking, you know the drill."

" _Damon!"_  I reprimanded, "NOT helping."

"Sorry."

Stefan did a double take, like he was surprised to hear his brother apologize. I took a deep, calming breath before suggesting, "Why don't we all sit down and have a talk?"

"Oh, I see. So you've invited him into  _my_  apartment and now you're inviting him to sit on  _my_  furniture? Not cool, Gilbert!" Damon chastised, but I could tell by the gleam in his eye that he was mostly joking.

 _I see what you did there Salvatore,_ I thought as a glared at him with all the playful venom I could muster. He seemed to get the message loud and clear (not that I thought he wouldn't) because he threw his hands up in surrender and shot me a surreptitious wink before moving over to the chair opposite the couch and sitting down. Stefan huffed and sat down in the middle of the sofa, but not before shooting an icy stare in his brother's direction.

"So, I think we three need to hash some things out," I started, after sitting down right next to Stefan. He immediately snaked his arm around my waist in a move that I would normally find comforting but, in this context, was purely possessive. I let it slide. I had to pick my battles. "Stefan, you clearly have some reservations about my relationship with Damon." He nodded, glaring at his brother and tightening his hold on my waist.

"I wouldn't call them 'reservations' so much as I would call them certainties that you'll be hurt if you let yourself fall into his trap." He was looking at me with pleading eyes and his grip on me waned slightly as he spoke and started to rub soothing circles into my side.

"I haven't even fucking tou-"

"Damon, wait your turn," I snapped. It was important to me to get us all on the same page so we could operate normally. Maybe it was selfish of me, but I wanted both brothers in my life. "Stef, you need to know that Damon and I are friends. I've told you this before, but you need to  _believe_  it. Whether you like it or not, we've grown close and he means something to me." I glanced over at Damon, who was beaming at me.

"I don't trust him, Elena," Stefan confessed, grabbing both of my hands and staring pleadingly into my eyes.

"Well, trust  _me_  then," I whispered. "Damon? Anything to add?"

I saw a smirk spread across Damon's lips and he was just about to open his mouth to say something undoubtedly snarky (and possibly hilarious) before he noticed my stern expression and stopped himself. He paused. "Stefan..." He finally started with a sigh; "I never fucking  _touched_  Katherine."

 _OK, I wasn't expecting him to bring_ her _up._ "I know you think I did and that's what this is really all about. But I didn't. And I have no nefarious plans to steal Elena and turn her against you. Not that that would work anyway, if I had one. Have you noticed how stubborn this girl is?" He glanced over at me and I gave him an appreciative smile. "Elena and I have something..."  _Did Stefan just growl?_ "An understanding. I really like her. Like,  _like_  her. Like, don't just wanna sleep with her." I inwardly frowned, for some reason. "I think people call that friendship. And I think she feels the same. Right?" He asked me and I gave a sheepish yet encouraging smile. "Can we just move on from the bullshit that fucking bitch instigated and go back to how it used to be? Olive branch, brother."

I was floored. That was one hell of an unexpected speech, coming from Damon. I looked at Stefan. He seemed as surprised as I was. I reached out and grabbed his hand. He turned his head to look at me questioningly and I smiled slightly and gave his hand a little squeeze. He seemed to release some tension then and let out a deep sigh.

"I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to trust you." It was obviously directed at Damon, but his eyes were on the floor. "But I trust her. I won't pretend to like what you have but I won't fight it either. Elena," he turned to look me in the eye; "If you truly want to be  _friends_  with  _him_ , I won't stop you."

I was touched. Again. And monumentally pissed off. Again. The way he spat those words did not sit right with me at all. However, it was a slight concession and it was progress. It was clear that if I wanted to keep both of them in my life, it wasn't going to be easy. It was possible, though. And all I ever needed was a possibility.

I wondered, in the back of my mind, if that was the end of jealous-violent-Stefan.


End file.
